


Lost In The Sheets

by moonlightof1982



Series: Haunted [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3128780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightof1982/pseuds/moonlightof1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa thinks about how it all happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost In The Sheets

As Sansa lies restlessly in bed, she thinks back to her first time with Petyr. The fear and shame she felt back then seemed like a distant memory, and in total opposite to her feelings now. Once, she was timid, afraid and unsure, shaking her head in doubt, but now, she was darkened, wanton and feral. Her ardent desire blooming in her eyes, matching his own. 

***

It was a day no different than any other. Petyr, Sweetrobin and Sansa were in the kitchens breaking their fasts. Plates of eggs, sliced melons and fresh bread with butter were on the table. Sweetrobin had been sleeping soundly over the past few days, and was in good spirits.

In the afternoon, Sansa dressed the little lord up in warm furs and walked to the gardens. Sansa loved being in the snow. It reminded her of Winterfell and wonderful times with her family. They stayed there a long time building castles and snow knights. Later, Petyr came out to join them, and Sansa and Sweetrobin teamed up against Petyr, and bombarded him with snowballs. They all played in the snow like children, caught up in the simple joy of it all, and forgetting their troubles. 

After playing in the garden, Sweetrobin complained of weariness, and retired to his bedchambers for an afternoon nap. Sansa, after changing out of her cold and wet clothes, joined Petyr in his solar. He was sitting on cushions by the fireplace, sipping hot mulled wine. 

“May I join you, my lord?”, asked Sansa. 

“Only if you call me Petyr.” , he replied, with a wry smile.

Sansa walked over to him, and was immediately struck by the sweet and heady aroma of the wine. It invaded her olfactory nerves and tickled them. 

“Today was fun.” “I haven’t been that happy in a very long time. “Thank you again for getting me out of King’s Landing.” “I don’t know what would have happened to me if…”

“You’re welcome, sweetling.” , said Petyr. He sipped his wine, his eyes trained on her.

“May I have a cup full?” “No one in Winterfell would let me drink, and I thought it wise to stay sober King’s Landing.” 

Wordlessly, Petyr leaned over to reach for the flagon and second goblet, and poured some for Sansa. He took the cloth from around his goblet and placed in around hers, to protect her hands from the heat. 

“Be careful, sweetling.” “It strong… and hot.”, said Petyr. Sansa had the vague feeling that he wasn’t talking about the wine. The taste was thick and grating and had the color of blood. She sipped it gingerly and her blood began to heat almost immediately. 

Petyr moved closer to Sansa and looked into her eyes. “You look so beautiful here by the fire. You’re crimson hair is almost glowing.” Petyr took a lock and looped it around his index finger. “You leave me breathless.”

“Oh, stop it.”, said Sansa, smiling. She lowered her gaze and started to blush pink. She found herself trembling slightly, and her heartbeat started to quicken. Was it the wine taking it’s toll, or was it Petyr? She couldn’t be sure. 

He reached for her hand, and kissed it gently, then turned it over and kissed her wrist. Boldly, he pulled her into his lap facing him. He took her half empty goblet from her hand and placed it on the floor. 

Sansa felt herself vibrate. She was completely enraptured by this. She could barely remember how she got there. All she could feel was the warmth of the fire against her back, a fluttering in her belly, and a wet reaction between her thighs. He drew her close and kissed her. Slow and deep soon became hungered and rushed. Petyr hands flew to the hem of her garment, and disappeared underneath it. His left hand lazily stroked her thigh.

As he was about to roll her over to her back when they both heard a distant scream! Their kiss broke, but neither of them wanted to get up from the moment. Sansa eventually realized she had no choice, so she composed herself, stood, and left Petyr by the fireplace. As she reached the door, she turned back to see him. He was red-faced and slightly out of breath. She could think of nothing to say, so she left. 

Sweetrobin suffered another shaking fit, and the maester and servants thought it best that he have his supper in the bedchambers. Sansa decided to stay, and eat with him as well. After he finished, she read him a story about the Winged Knight, and he quickly fell back to sleep.

Sansa sat in the chair next to his bed to contemplate what had happened to her and Petyr. She could still taste the wine on her lips. The wine, and Petyr. She knew she would have to see him again. She could feel a forgone conclusion about to happen, but she was so afraid. She walked back to her own chambers, changed out of her dress, and into a silk nightgown and robe that Petyr had given her while on the Merling King. She sat at the edge of the bed for hours lost in thoughts that seemed less and less real.

By the length of the burnt candles, she knew it was the “hour of the wolf.” The castle would be sleeping, and honestly, so should she, but she couldn’t. 

“Hour of the wolf.” The words echoed throughout her mind. The Direwolf’s Hour! Sansa’s hour! She knew it was time! 

She stood, picked up the candle, and walked with all the confidence she could muster back to Petyr’s solar. She went in and bolted the door. She looked for Petyr, but he was not at his desk. Then, she walked over to the far right hand corner, and found his door to his bedchamber partly open. 

She crept into his room and found him asleep and lightly snoring. She sound of it made her quietly laugh out loud, and with that laugh, Petyr gently woke up. Realizing that Petyr was now awake, the smile in her eyes quickly vanished, and fear was left in it’s place. 

Petyr made no attempt to move, only watching, waiting. He was as still as Sansa had ever seen him, but the look in his eyes gave the suggestion that he could strike at any moment, with the deadly accuracy of a viper. 

Sansa couldn’t speak, but by then, she knew the time for a discussion was past. She hands slowly went to the laces of her robe. She undid them and let it fall to the floor. One of the straps of her nightgown was already off her shoulder, so she pulled her arm free and let the nightgown slide off of her body. Her eyes never left his, as if silently asking permission. He slowly sat up, took her hand and pressed her naked form flushed to his. She hovered over him briefly before falling into his kiss. As before, the kisses soon became more and more passionate, and she found herself lost in the sheets.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this is so much fun! Next chapter coming soon!


End file.
